Juicy and Tender and Moist
by Michelle H. C. Zhu
Summary: This is what the GX fandom gets for writing so many M-rated fics with the fundamental synopsis of: "The alcoholic Trapper drugs Jesse and rapes him as a sex slave until Jaden rescues him so they can have fanservice spiritshipping lemon buttsex LOL."


Giese Hunt suppressed a groan from his starved body. He tightened his grip on the thin glass neck, reeled his head back, and took another long swing of the amber-stained bottle, desperately trusting that the liquid inside would be enough to buttress his slowly increasing impatience. He was on the verge of snapping and dumping all self-control on the floor. He was on the verge of opening the door to the room adjacent of the one he was currently residing in, seizing that damned slut by his tresses, and beating some bloody sense into him, and hopefully satisfy his own appetite at the same time.

Johan was a bit inexperienced in the area but that wasn't unexpected of him; after all, he was someone who had spent most of their life studying the mechanics of card games, and never tore his eyes away from his childish cards long enough to realize that, well, _darker_ regions of "gaming" existed in the world. But despite Johan's naïveté, he possessed raw talent that every hungry man looked for in virgin meat. He was a delicious one, needless to say, tender and moist and tight in _just_ the right areas. Every muscle in Giese's body quaked with unrestrained desire at the mere thought of that boy's goods. His mind flooded with crude images of biting, stabbing, pounding that worthless lump of meat until he drove his brains out. He thought of the tender, juicy flesh his teeth would soon be sinking into and leaving tiny wedge-shaped marks in afterwards. Giese's mouth watered from the delectable images that had formed in his mind.

He couldn't wait any longer.

"_BOY_!" Giese barked, brandishing his alcohol as a weapon, despite the fact his victim was on the other side of the door. "Are you done with the chore yet? I've been waiting too long for this!"

He was served with a platter of silence.

"_DID YOU HEAR ME_? _I ASKED YOU IF YOU WERE DONE_!"

Again, silence.

Giese growled darkly under his breath. "I'll ask you one more time," he raised his voice again, "and if you refuse to answer I **will** hurt the one most precious to you! I have him here! For all he's worth, he's better off as _fodder to the maggots_!"

This provoked a response. In a nearly inaudible mew-like whisper, an, "…almost," came from somewhere in the house.

"I gave you an hour to wash up and prepare! An hour! Most would have given up and kicked you in an instant!" He paused, waiting for Johan's reply. When none came, he continued, enraged, "Furthermore—I'm _paying_ you for your services! How do you like that? Most other folks wouldn't give you a dime in compensations, but I'm different, oh, yes, I'm proud to say I'm a decent man with a streak of generosity…even for brats like you," Giese finished, leaning lazily back in the chair with a self-satisfied 'uh-hum'.

Pots hitting the floor could be heard from inside the kitchen.

A second later, the door swung open and the bruised, scruffy, dog-eared form of Johan Anderson came trudging in, holding a large casserole bowl between oven mitt-clad hands. The loosely tied ends of his apron fluttered around frivolously as he tramped over to the older man in a manner that could only be described as wretchedly disgruntled. He unceremoniously pitched the casserole bowl in front of Giese that caused some of the contents inside the bowl to sop over the side.

Eye twitching, Giese peered at his meal. Brown chunks oddly resembling scat bobbed up and down in the liquid.

"…what in the name of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph is _this_?" he demanded, prodding a finger at the stew. "Are you deaf, boy? I asked for a filet mignon, and you gave me this…this…_junk_ instead!"

Apron-clad Johan yielded in to a scowl. "I tried to cook a steak. Except it exploded in my face."

Had he not been sitting on the verge of starvation, Giese would have let out a guffaw at that statement. Instead, he frowned. "Rubbish."

Johan sucked in a deep breath. "Look," he pleaded. "I tried my best and put in all my effort into preparing you this delicious meal _so can I please have my Rainbow Dragon back_?"

Giese snorted. "You ain't getting back your precious gem beast until you cook me up an edible dinner."

"I never cooked in my life! What am I supposed to do?"

"Learn."

"From who?!"

"...I dunno."

"_GRRARH_." Johan closed his eyes and vigorously scratched his head in frustration. His fingernails gnawed at his scalp and mussed up his hair so now that it looked like he had a demented Mohawk. "_WHY ARE YOU SO CRUEL_?" he moaned.

"Kid, I just wanted a juicy—" Giese began.

"That is totally, entirely unreasonable!"

"—and tender—"

"Last time when I touched a stove was when I was kindergarten!"

"—and moist—"

"I'm **seventeen**!"

"—steak," Giese finished quite frankly.

"..."

Realizing the trapper had no intention of listening to logic; Johan finally gave up reasoning with him and threw his hands up in exasperation. "…I hate you."

Giese let out another snort. "Say whatever you want, but know this: You brought upon yourself. It's your fault for being so sympathetic and guilt-ridden in the first place." He clasped his hands together and screwed his voice to a ridiculously high pitch, fluttering his eyelashes melodramatically at the younger boy. "_Oh, I feel soooo terrible for killing you with visions of duel monsters after winning at a children's card game! How can I **ever **make it up to you_?"

Johan blinked. "I didn't mean it _literally_!"

Giese gave Johan a wry sideways glance as he finished the rest of his beer in one quick gulp. "Right. Did you mean it sexually?" Giese looked him up and down. Johan recoiled.

"_Nooo_. I just meant…you didn't have to take advantage of my kindness and issue ridiculous requests!"

"I wanted a steak." Giese shook his head. "How is that ridiculous? The first thing any man rescued from a deserted plane wants is a decent meal."

"I can't cook!" Johan exclaimed.

"Not my problem."

Johan paused, before laying down his ace card. "My friend, as in Juudai, **saved. you.**" he pointed out smartly, dictating that last two words with a "_So there_" tone.

"And if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have found Rainbow Dragon," Giese countered, waving around the empty alcohol bottle and giving the indignant Johan an all-knowing wink. "Who'ja think tipped off Pegasus about the excavation site of the lithographs, boy?"

"_What_? You—but—you _were dead_!" he sputtered.

"Correction. I was transported to another dimension where duel monsters tormented me day and night for capturing them."

"_What_?" This was getting stranger by the second.

"Then they got sick of it and we became friends. Or something," he added in with a hasty afterthought.

"_**What**_?"

"And Gokipon told me the lithographs were in Germany. So then I contacted Pegasus in a dream."

"...?!"

"I told him to get his ass straight to Germany and create that card or else I would bust his cap for not making a collector's item worth millions on the market. ...not that, uh, I was alive to steal said collector's item, or anything, hm."

"..."

"...and that's the story of how I picked up two hookers in Detroit—I mean—uh—ultimately helped you find Rainbow Dragon." Johan gawked at him. Giese scowled. "Look, do you want to cook me a steak or do you not want to cook me a steak? Because if not, it is under my country's constitutional rights to sexually violate you due to lack of cooperation on."

"..._I COME FROM YOUR COUNTRY_. _AND WE'RE IN JAPAN_."

"The Patriot Act allows me to slip through the loopholes."

"_YOU'RE NOT AMERICAN_."

"Ah, but you underestimate my hunting abilities, youngling. My identities are interchangeable! Within a blink of the eyes, I can alter my name to the bona fide 'Trapper' and don a very irritating southern donkey guffaw on command."

"…what the hell does that have to do with hunting?"

"_Everything_."

Johan opened his mouth. He closed it. He opened it again. He closed it. His face swelled into a peculiar shape resembling a balloon before he finally let it all out.

"I hate you—you—_warmongering chowderhead_!"

The frills on his apron flew up as Johan promptly took a 360 degrees turn and angrily stormed five paces into the kitchen, all the while muttering underneath his breath, "…and you should've stayed dead." The door that slammed behind him practically emitted a turquoise green aura of Johan-irritation.

Giese stared at the wooden door with a frown. After a second of sitting in offended silence, he cupped his hand to his mouth and yelled, "_You should've learned how to cook_!"

Pots hitting the floor could be heard from inside the kitchen. Giese jerked his head back and cackled maniacally.

"Gokipon? Please..."

Thank lord, he was a pathological liar by nature.


End file.
